My Pictures

December 16, 2014

All that had been left under was forgot,
All that had been drowned in summer eves was shot
To Quest of past pretty pictures forlorn,
Written quiet in future past tense reborn,
Never spent time in callous eyes made more,
To naked truths gone without falsehood’s old lore,
Moments but brief sprung through its winds of time,
Sharpened focus to short framed snapshots been mimed,
Distance of space pleads itself to remake,
Constant old thought gone so far to retake,
If I could recall those faraway nights,
I wouldn’t need the frame sat within my sights,
Now alone I dream of that great distance,
Which keeps my self from adventure’s great instance.

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